


The Right Time

by justpeachytea



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-18 18:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20196451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justpeachytea/pseuds/justpeachytea
Summary: A fic that was intended to be somewhat angsty of after El moves, in which she wants to call Max but struggles to build up the courage to do so after analyzing her feelings for her/the situation.





	The Right Time

El was in a moving truck, hot tears fresh on her face, sitting across from Joyce. Moving to somewhere she’d never been. Hopper was gone. Her only home, Hawkins, no longer an option. She’d left her friends in a tearful goodbye, a squeeze of the tightest hug couldn’t even begin to be enough. She wasn’t sure she knew how to fight loneliness anymore. She’d only spent 3 years now away from living in a cold lab, with no love, affection, or caring attention, but that warm break—of a home, friends, a father—was too beautiful to leave behind. 

“We’re home.”

They weren’t home. Just at an empty house. But she didn’t blame Joyce for that. She couldn’t be any further from home, unsure even of the state they were in. It didn’t matter. She could’ve made the Byerses house home, definitely. But not... this. A place that looked like it had never been lived in before, never worn in, never loved. It was never a home. But she gave a soft smile to Joyce, fighting tears again, and surrendered. Aside from this little bubble of Byerses, no one she cared about was here. But hell, she had stuff in the truck that had to go somewhere. 

Jonathan helped her lift the boxes, and she chose an empty room to place them. A bedroom, hers, she supposed. She began to unpack, wanting nothing more than to go back home to the cabin and hide under blankets, like she did when Max would show her scary movies. 

/Max./ Aside from Joyce, Max felt like the only thing that could ground her right now. And she wasn’t here. The girl she so desperately longed for, her best friend. The girl who made everything feel alright, who made sunshine appear from nowhere. Who felt like the softest blankets warm out of the dryer. Max was her comfort, her rock, her anchor. Leaving her behind, her gentle, loving touch. That too tight but still not tight enough hug that morning she left, that goodbye. G-d, she already missed it. Max made her feel like no one else did, like her insides were all fuzzy, but jumbled up. But it was a good sort of jumble, a happy dizzy, like after you’ve jumped too much on a trampoline. She didn’t know how to explain it, but she could melt into the way Max held her hand or grazed her arm, body always full of warmth, easier than anything. Looking into her eyes, so wide and blue, the way her nose crinkled when she smiled and her freckles on the bridge moved with it, there was nothing more compelling. The only thing she ached for at that moment was for Max’s arms around her. It didn’t happen often, not by any means, but if one of the two needed the touch, the comfort, she would be held by the other. The world felt safe when Max touched her. Like nothing could hurt her, or even attempt to reach her. Max, in her own way, was home. 

/Love?/She wondered curiously one night, Max next to her in bed as she slept over. /Why yes, it must’ve been./ But there was that person people said...thought, she loved, Mike. She didn’t feel the same when she was around him as she did with Max. No one really even told her what love felt like, anyway. Different than the heart that glowed when the arms of her friends enveloped her in a hug, different than a reassuring squeeze of the hand Hopper would give her. Instead, El wanted to be close to Max, to make her happy, to... hold her hand? Kiss her? She’d never tell anyone, would let Max sleep in the dark, wouldn’t act on it. Just silently wished and hoped the girl would never find out, or by some miracle, could feel the same. That one day, El could let Max know, with hope in her chest that it would work out. She could only now continue to miss her, over and over, regretting not squeezing her tighter or telling her before she left. 

Who could be sure of the next time she could see Hawkins again, if ever? She couldn’t make new friends, impossible. Joyce could and would become a mother. But who could replace Hopper? She’d never be able to find another Max. 

Guilt ate away at her, made her hands wring and flip pages of stacks of phone books, hoping to find the right number to call. The fleeting thought that she’d never find it made her heart ache. Max would assume she’d forgotten, or didn’t miss her at all. 

/Jesus, she’d left Max./The thought played over again, skipping like a broken record. Only reachable by mail or phone call. She left the girl she cared about most broken, still stitching up the wounds and grief and confusion that followed her brother’s death...alone. And here El was, thinking about if that girl wanted her. It was so selfish. All she could replay was how she held Max in her arms after her brother had died. She hated herself for it. 

She found the number. Sat in the living room, book a few inches away from her, under the landline. Joyce found her sitting there, boxes still in the corners of the room. El’s eyes glued to the page, the words reading “Neil Hargrove Residence”. Her gaze heavy with apprehension and doubt, but longing for the courage to dial the phone.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Joyce pondered, leaning over and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder as she tried to read the print on the thick book’s page.

“It’s Max. I want to talk but I—“

“Can’t?” Joyce finished for her. El nodded. Joyce understood. “It’s okay honey. I think she’s ready. You miss her, don’t you?” Another nod. “I promise, if she needs anyone to help her heal, it’s a friend. You.” Joyce didn’t know Max very well, but knew that her brother had recently passed, and that the two were friends. Granted, she didn’t know just how complicated Max’s feelings were toward Billy, and how destructive he was to Max’s life, El’s life, her son’s, and the rest of their friends, but she understood grief. How it complicates things. And how people help.

Joyce smiled again, squeezing El’s shoulder. “Do it when you’re ready, sweetheart. But you should.” She took her hand away as El’s face softened and left the room.

El’s heavy breath, deep into her lungs, penetrated the buzzing thoughts in her head, akin to the background noise of the television. Yes, she could wait a day, for her heartbeat to slow. She could wait a few days, which would turn into weeks, maybe even months. She knew that now was the necessary time, otherwise? Never. Hands shaking, breath catching in her throat, El dialed the phone. As the dial tone echoed in her ears her thoughts shouted to hang up, made up reasons why Max wouldn’t pick up, so why should she bother? But she swallowed them, and accepted the dial tone. A nearby box caught her eye, walking with the cord with restless hands, and found… something of Max’s. Her shirt baggy, probably for sleeping. She must’ve kept it accidentally after she slept over at Max’s. Impulsively, already with a shirt underneath, put it on, other hand still gripping the phone. At that same moment the tone stopped, and with a click, a voice was on the line. 

“Hello?” Max’s curious voice inquired on the other end. El almost dropped the phone she was holding, fingertips loosely holding the thing, as her stomach dropped what felt like ten stories. 

“Hi, it’s El.” She choked out, unaware of the breath she was holding in. Unknown to El, Max grinned happily, jumping up and down in the hallway outside of her room. 

“I’ve missed you.” The two girls said in unison, both giggling after noticing what had happened. Max couldn’t help but cheerfully play with her ponytail, held by a scrunchie of the other girl’s, probably something she accidentally kept after their sleepover.

“I’m so sorry.” El blurted. “Are you doing okay?” Worry overcame her, alongside guilt. She hadn’t been able to help her at all. At least the two could’ve grieved together. 

“It’s not your fault.” Max shook her head. “And yeah, for the most part. It’s a lot quieter at home now. The boys try their best, and mom’s still broken up about it. I wish you were here, y’know, to talk about it.” Silence on Max’s end. 

“Yeah, I get it. It’s hard too. No one’s really talked about it. They’re all scared of what I’ll do.” El responded, hopefully attempting to make Max feel less alone. 

“Things just aren’t the same anymore.” The redhead replied. 

/Definitely./ El thought to herself. The two fought the awkward silence and tried to cheer the other up, eventually ending in laughter and joking around. Max sat on the floor now, back resting against the wall of the hallway, soft carpet under her. It wasn’t the same, but talking to El brought back those feelings from before. Of… happiness. Freedom. Safety. Like… home. She only wished the girl was face to face with her in that hall, sitting on the other side, knees grazing her own. 

El in her own happiness, feeling the fabric of Max’s shirt in between her fingers. Soft, worn. She was struck suddenly with her own urgency. Her longing to know the girl’s feelings for her. 

“Hey Max?” El sounded… far away. Apprehensive. Scared. 

“Yeah. What’s wrong?” Max dug herself into the carpet. 

A few moments of silence.“Nothing, I just have something to tell you.” I like you.The words never came out. Instead: “Your shirt’s here. I must have taken it accidentally after I stayed over. I’ll mail it back to you, okay?” 

“Keep it.” The prospect of El having something of her own, made her feel… giddy somehow. “I have your scrunchie anyway.” Like she could just jump through the phone and… /kiss her./

El smiled to herself. A memento. A piece of Max, now her’s. “I’ll tell you the other thing in person.” 

“There’s something else?” Max ached to know. What could be so secret? Too worthy for the telephone? It couldn’t be what she hoped for, secretly. 

“Yeah. Just that I miss you.” El wasn’t ready. Maybe for another phone call, maybe. In another year, or two. 

“I miss you more. Mwah.” Max blew a kiss into the receiver. That was as close to the real thing she could get. She hung up the phone after a few moments, heart loud in her ears. Hopefully El didn’t read into it too much. Best friends blew kisses to each other, right? She hoped that’s what El thought. 

El felt a smile overtake her as she heard Max’s kiss on the other end, grappling for it out of the receiver. A flush made her face hot with embarrassment. But with a gentle sense of pride, placed the handful of air against her lips. She could wait a few months to see Max, she thought. Maybe then she’d tell her, and if she was lucky, the two girls would do better than just air through a landline. 


End file.
